


Corrupter Of Words

by ruric



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Community: slashthedrabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-07
Updated: 2005-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/pseuds/ruric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindsey lives by words, but he doubts that he'll die by them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corrupter Of Words

Lindsey lives by words. 

He'd learned to appreciate a well put together story at his momma's knee and he's inherited her talent for spinning tales. He knows it, and he's very good at it, because he practised this talent for years. 

As the smallest kid in the playground he quickly discovered fists weren't the only answer – carefully chosen words could disable a bully or bigot just as quickly as a punch to the gut. Growing up he learned guile – why tackle a problem head on when a few whispered words in the right ears, and an entreaty to silence, could achieve what he wanted? He watched and listened, realised people confide in a good listener, so he learned how – becoming a trusted friend, face open, offering a shoulder to cry on, giving sympathetic responses whilst they spilled all their secrets and weaknesses. And he learned charm – stood in front of a mirror, smiling at himself until his jaw ached and he could make it sincere, reaching his eyes, removing the bitter fury and replacing it with warmth.

In court it's his ability to construct a story, to string words together, twisting and shaping them, making them mean what _he_ wants them to mean that's important. This is his skill – to ensure the jury believes his client's innocence.

He spends his days talking – to clients, witnesses, secretaries and juniors, fellow partners, Wolfram and Hart...consultants, and to his bosses. In each of these conversations he has to be aware of every word, every intonation and inflection, to see the ripples and effects of their use. He understands the power of words, he knows they're the most destructive tool he has at his disposal.

Surprising then, under the shadow of night, when he and Angel meet – they don't talk. At least little beyond the use of each other's name and the odd curse.

What exists between them isn't built upon words strung together to make coherent sentences. What exists between them isn't mapped by words at all. 

They've invented their own vocabulary for whatever this _thing_ is that binds them together and causes them to meet.

It's born of the jagged sounds of ripped clothing; of angrily snarled curses and the menacing, diaphragm-rattling, animal growl of a demon's anger; of the soft whoosh of air escaping lungs as clenched fists meets vulnerable flesh.

It's built on the dull thud of a body hitting a wall or a car; the tearing sound of wood splintering; the soft metallic swish of a knife being drawn hurriedly from a sheath; the whistle as a blade cuts through the air and the ragged hiss of breath as it connects.

It climaxes in the wet slither of damp skin against skin; the clash of teeth against teeth; the frenetic struggle for breath, followed by a sobbing moan and the whisper of a name, so softly sighed that it could be interpreted as either benediction or curse.

Lindsey lives by words, but he doubts that he'll die by them.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "sound" prompt on the LJ community [slashthedrabble](http://slashthedrabble.livejournal.com).


End file.
